All We Know Is Falling
by josefwronski.feint
Summary: The death of Queen Islanzadi forever changed the dynamics of Eragon and Arya's relationship. Eragon knew he could never deny her anything. ExA *oneshot*


He found her staring blankly at the stars above.

She was standing in the middle of the street where Islanzadí, the queen of the elves, had fallen in the hands of Barst. She was donned in her usual attire of black and leather, with her sword hanging low by the right side of her hips and hair thrown into a messy bun that did nothing to hide her emerald eyes. Any other person would've thought that the elven princess was simply admiring the skies, but Eragon likes to think that he knows Arya well; the way her lips were pressed into a thin line, hands balled into fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white, and the slightly visible darkening under her eyes, told Eragon all he needed to know how his friend felt right now.

Hesitantly, he took a step towards her. He knew she heard him, but when she gave no indication of moving away, he closed the distance between them and unclasped the cape he was wearing.

"It's cold, Arya Svit-kona," he murmured. He gently laid his cape on her shoulders, careful not to touch her anymore than necessary. She gave him a glance but said nothing, her vision returning to the stars. Curious, Eragon turned his attention towards the skies, which was darker than usual, making the stars seem brighter.

It took close to a quarter of an hour before Arya spoke, startling Eragon out of his stupor. "Your cousin told me this was where she was slain," she started, a bitter smile gracing her features. "I almost wish the bastard who did this to her is still alive so I myself can kill him."

"Cursing doesn't suit you," Eragon flinched; he didn't mean to say the thought out loud. He waited for Arya to get mad, or maybe turn him away, but she simply scoffed at his response and resumed staring at the stars.

There was another moment of silence before she spoke again.

"Do you believe there is life after the void?"

Eragon regarded her for a moment and shook his head. "I don't believe in such things, Arya Svit-kona," he said.

"Why?"

"It is my belief that life after the void is unnecessary and redundant," he explained, giving her a slight smile before continuing. "One life is enough."

She nodded and Eragon released a breath he didn't know he was holding. He turned to the elf and held out his hand tentatively, waiting. When she finally released her gaze from the stars and looked at him, he was careful to remain eye contact with her.

"It's cold, Arya Svit-kona," he repeated, his voice shaking slightly as he stared at her eyes. "We should move indoors."

The elf regarded him for a moment, her eyes slowly moving away from his face and on to his still outstretched hand. Eragon could've sworn she was going to reject his offer, but slowly – carefully – she took his hand and nodded, and again, Eragon breathed a sigh of relief before gracing her with a small smile.

He proceeded to guide her to the Varden's temporary quarters, which was an abandoned inn near where Nasuada is currently residing. Eragon made sure to avoid the streets that were still littered with dead bodies and debris from battle, opting instead to make detours for clearer routes. If Eragon was honest with himself, making sure that Arya doesn't see more destruction wasn't his only reason; he wanted to spend more time with Arya. So he walked slowly, thankful that his companion didn't seem to mind their pace and the way he lightly grasped her hand.

They walked for half an hour before reaching the inn. After going up the flight of stairs, Eragon pointed at a door to his left and said, "That's yours, mine is just at the end of the hall," he stopped and turned to look at her.

"Good night, Arya," he murmured, reluctantly releasing her hand from his. Before he could fully turn away, Arya's hand shot up and gripped his, making Eragon turn to her with a bewildered look on his face.

"What is it?" he asked, concern evident on his face. He wondered if Arya had any injuries he didn't notice. The elf however, simply looked down at the beaten floorboards, brows knit together as if deep in thought.

"Arya Svit-kona?"

"Stay with me."

Eragon stared at her, astonished. "W-What?" he managed to croak out.

With steely resolve, Arya looked at him directly in his eyes. "Stay with me," she repeated. With elven grace she removed the distance between them; they were so close that Eragon could feel her breath on his chin. Her scent, pine needles he concluded, invaded his senses, giving him a hard time to form any coherent thought. His eyes unconsciously drifted away from hers and rested on her lips, and not for the first time he wondered if they tasted as wonderful as she smelled.

He forced his eyes to look at hers again, aware that he was breathing heavily. "Arya Svit-kona, I'm afraid I don't underst—"

He never finished the sentence. Arya's lips came crashing down on his like a wave; swift and powerful. He felt his back hit the wall and his mind reeled, his heart almost bursting from its chest. To his surprise he felt his lips move against hers, returning the kiss with equal fervor. He let his instincts take-over as he felt the hand that was previously holding his slip away from his grasp and latch itself onto his tunic.

After what seemed like eternity they parted, each gasping for breath. Eragon rested his forehead on Arya's, his hands gently squeezing her hips. He looked at her; from the hands that were twisted so tightly around his tunic, to her swollen lips, and her bright, stormy eyes.

"Arya…"

"Stay with me," she said again. He didn't think it was possible but he felt her move closer, her chest touching his, and he felt delicious heat travel all over his body. "Stay with me, Eragon," she whispered softly in his ear, almost inaudible due to her own heavy breathing.

"This is wrong," Eragon said, and he hated how his voice shook. "You're grieving."

"Then help me cope."

Eragon knew he could never deny her anything.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle is owned by Christopher Paolini.<strong>

Reviews and constructive criticism are very much appreciated.


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